


To be Something More

by AverageOddity



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Caspar struggles to come to terms with his sexuality, Crimson Flower route spoilers, Friends to Lovers, I'll add more tags as they come up, M/M, Post-Timeskip, Pre-Timeskip, Slow Burn, Some Byleth x Linhardt flirting, Some NSFW after the timeskip in later chapters, Specific warnings posted at the beginning of the chapter, They're both very gay in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24663931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AverageOddity/pseuds/AverageOddity
Summary: After a sudden display of affection from Caspar, Linhardt becomes curious as to how deep his affections are for him. More research is required, but achieving an accurate result is certainly time consuming.Aka: Slow burn fic in which it takes Caspar years to accept the fact that he's in love with his best friend.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez & Linhardt von Hevring, Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring, Linhardt von Hevring/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 12
Kudos: 56





	1. Sunday, 9th day of Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1180

Oftentimes Linhardt found himself wondering why he even bothered attending the Officers Academy in the first place. Actually, that was a lie. He knew his reasons, yet he often found himself forgetting those reasons in the midst of the constant droll of living there. 

Today’s reason for forgetting was yet another _exciting_ battle he has less than volunteered to participate in. He and a small group of other students had been approached by Professor Byleth the night before to embark on yet another sudden and _apparently_ important mission. The battle itself had been irritating. The walk home had been exhausting. However, returning home to find himself and the rest of the returning party hounded by a noisy crowd of curious onlookers with nothing better to do was absolutely, without a doubt, the most draining part of the entire escapade. 

As others chattered excitedly in front of him, Linhardt just stood there and prodded at the growing tension headache throbbing angrily against his temples and behind his eyes. Goddess, just end this. He can almost feel the nearby room with a bed just calling his name, and he would like nothing more than to answer it right now. “Linhardt!” That was someone actually calling his name. A shrill yet booming shout he knew all too well cut cleanly through the noisy dinge of the crowd surrounding them. As if on cue, the voice was soon paired with the boy who had been shouting, his close acquaintance Caspar. 

Calling Caspar a close acquaintance might be a little too formal. Caspar and Linhardt had been friends since childhood. Though they were pitted against each other as rivals by their fathers since a young age, Linhardt liked him well enough and personally felt no reason to rival him. Caspar was hot headed and built for fighting, which was something Linhardt had absolutely no desire to be. That fact didn’t take away from the other fact that he did still tend to enjoy the other boy’s company, even if he was less than keen to admit it. They had drifted apart somewhat as adolescents when tensions began to arise again between their separate houses. Now, living in close quarters with one another at Garreg Mach Monastery had allowed them the ample opportunity to rekindle their earlier friendship. Some things about attending the Officer’s Academy weren’t so bad.

While Linhardt typically did not mind and even enjoyed Caspar’s company, today was not one of those days. While he had escaped the battle with barely a scratch, Linhardt’s head was killing him, and at that moment Caspar was still shouting his name and not so politely elbowing his way through the crowd towards him, which was absolutely not helping. 

Linhardt mentally prepared the dismissive quip he would say to him as he watched the other boy draw near. When he gets close enough for Linhardt to read his expression his mind briefly falters. Caspar is staring him down with a focused yet unreadable expression Linhardt has never seen before. Odd. Once Caspar is close enough to hear him Linhardt opens his mouth to greet him. “Hello Caspar-” The rest of his sentence is cut off in a sharp gasp as all the air was suddenly forced from his lungs. 

He realized first the crushing pressure is coming from around his waist, then the fact that his feet were no longer on the ground. Linhardt’s hands instinctively clasped onto the arms holding him up in an attempt to stabilize himself before he realized the action was completely unnecessary. He was suspended up unwaveringly in the other’s grasp. Caspar was still talking, shouting actually. Something about him being worried and upset that he had gone without him. Caspar’s tone had a strange edge to it, yet Linhardt couldn’t really understand the words he was saying. Caspar’s face was pressed firmly into the hard dip at the center of Linhardt’s chest, muffling the sound. Then it clicked all together that Caspar was embracing him so tightly he had lifted him off of his feet. While the tightness of his grip was certainly extreme, the overall action wasn’t unpleasant. In that moment Linhardt found that he had forgotten all of the discomfort and irritation he had just been dwelling on just moments before, and with every subsequent observation his initial shock melted more into mild curiosity. 

If the crowd had cared any more then Caspar’s erratic behavior would have made a scene, and that was _interesting._ The moment ended all too soon, ending as suddenly as it started. As if coming to his senses, Caspar quickly dropped Linhardt back to his feet before reeling back suddenly as if the realization had burned his skin. 

After distancing themselves, an uncomfortable tension brewed between them. The crowd that had surrounded them had quickly lost interest in their touching reunion, turning their attention to Byleth and the newly acquired relic in his grasp. Linhardt couldn’t deny that he was intrigued. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to explore the reasons behind his friend’s odd behavior, except not right then. He was still too exhausted from his travels to give this situation the mental energy it required. After several moments of awkward silence, Linhardt finally spoke. “Hello Caspar,” then, before Caspar could answer back he quickly added, “Goodbye Linhardt.” With that Linhardt spun on his heel and briskly walked away in the direction of the dorms.

Once he reached his room Linhardt hastily shut the door behind him and locked it. When he was sure he was safe in the quiet solace he released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The wake of the strange adrenaline rush brought his headache back full force, but he was too dazed to lay down just yet. His mind wandered as he stood aimlessly in the center of the room, his gaze focused on the scattered books and papers strewn across the floor as he replayed the odd events of the last several minutes. 

He knew that Caspar did nothing but eat, sleep, and train all hours of the day, but when did he get _that_ strong? He was honestly rather fascinated, _amazed_ by how firm and unyielding the tensed muscles of Caspar’s arms felt as he held him up effortlessly, and in contrast how soft the skin overtop of those muscles had felt under his fingertips. As his mind wanders his own long, wiry arms snake around his own waist to mimic the action. His head was spinning. As he continued lost in his thoughts he meandered backwards until his knees hit the bed. He then let himself fall backwards at a strange diagonal, letting his feet dangle off the edge. It was such a strange moment, yet so _interesting_. The more he thought about it, the more curiosities he had about the whole encounter, and the underlying factors possibly driving it. 

Shortly after laying down Linhardt yawned deeply and felt his eyelids getting heavier. He kicked his boots off, not bothering with the rest of his uniform, before bringing his feet up and laying properly on the bed, flat on his back. His arms stayed firmly placed around his abdomen as he stared up at the ceiling, still contemplating all of the new information flooding his senses.

“I will certainly be exploring this matter further,” he mused to himself and yawned again before adding, “...later.” Then he sighed and let his body relax into the pleasure of sleep as the natural urge overtook him.

_Fascinating._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This originally started as an accompaniment to a cute little drawing I made, and has now spiraled out of control. This is also the first time I've ever posted a writing of mine publicly. Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, but either way thank you for reading!


	2. Sunday, 9th day of Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1180: PART II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caspar overthinks too much and everything gets much more complicated.

Oh Goddess, why did he do that.

His body was buzzing.

Caspar stared at Linhardt, eyes wide and body stiffened from shock. Did he hurt him just now? Did he weird him out? Linhardt looked tired, and irritated, and _perfect,_ and Dear Goddess, he was still staring at him.

Caspar’s brain wouldn’t stop screaming.

Why, why, why did he just do that.

Stop staring. Say something. It’s just Linhardt. Just the guy you’ve known nearly your entire life.

This was getting weird.

He had to say something to him, to make sure he was okay, to make sure he didn’t make whatever was happening worse. He just needed to say _something._

“Uhhh...” He stumbled quietly as his mouth clicked open in a poor attempt to force himself to form words, anything to fill the silence. 

“Hello Caspar,” Linhardt said stiffly before adding curtly with a nod, “Goodbye Linhardt.” And with that Linhardt spun on his heel and Caspar watched him hopelessly as he walked off. 

And he continued to stare off into the direction he went off to long after Linhardt was out of sight. 

This was bad. 

More than likely he was just leaving to go to sleep, or whatever else Linhardt does when he normally walks off like that, but eventually he will find him again and confront him about what happened, and Caspar won’t have an explanation for him. 

Honestly he couldn’t even explain to himself why he did it.

It was just so overwhelming. 

First it was finding out that he had gone off on that mission without him. 

Yes, it was likely Professor Byleth had approached him for another sudden mission they had to leave for immediately, but Linhardt and Caspar were supposed to be a team!

You can’t be a team if your teammate leaves without you, or gets hurt, or _worse._ With that Caspar felt an angry flush of heat behind his eyes that made him want to hit something.

He didn’t want to think about what “or _worse”_ was.

Caspar had spent most of that day trying to distract himself from his friend’s absence by training. It was always the one thing that could put his mind at ease when there were too many thoughts rolling around up there. 

Punching and kicking the sad looking practice dummy until his limbs ached made his body feel good and his head feel empty.

Usually.

The only breaks he took during the day were to eat and to periodically check with the front gate guard to see if the party had returned yet.

He didn’t like waiting.

He didn’t like being left behind. 

The professor seemed to like him enough. He often took time to help him with Caspar’s training one on one, and had brought him flowers on his birthday, yet sometimes he would get left behind when he went out on missions like this.

He couldn’t understand why he wasn’t asked to go too.

It made him feel weak.

While he knew he had a lot of room to grow, Caspar was always working to get stronger.

Linhardt never had to work to be strong. 

Being amazing always seemed to come easy to him.

Now he was gone, and worse than that it was still Linhardt’s birthweek too! Deep down he knew Linhardt didn’t really care much about his birthday, but Caspar still liked to celebrate the whole week with him. It was a tradition, and one he wasn’t keen on breaking.

When the blinding intensity of his frustrations eased away, Caspar found himself standing in front of a sad sack of torn straw hanging from a broken post. He stood there panting heavily, sweat cooled on his skin in an uncomfortable way, and his knuckles were sore and bleeding through several raw patches of torn skin.

Okay, he definitely overdid it, but he’d be fine by tomorrow. 

He grabbed for a dirty old rag he had set on the fence nearby to wipe the sweat from his face, neck, and hair. When that was done and his breathing began to even out again, he pressed the now wet cloth onto the open sores on his hands to keep the small traces of blood from getting on his uniform once he put it back on.

It wasn’t uncommon for whoever was assigned laundry duty for the week to get mad at him for that.

That was when the opening of the large front gate caught his attention. The sudden noise of many people talking at once pulled him to the training ground’s large window. When he saw the bright colors of his classmates’ hair in the gathering crowd he quickly went to throw on his uniform.

Monastery folks got mad at him when he ran around without a shirt on.

When he had dressed himself well enough he ran down towards the front gate, looking for Linhardt the crowd.

He lifted himself up on the balls of his feet, trying to see the faces in the group.

Immediately he saw Byleth, Hubert, Edelgard, and so on, but not Linhardt. Of course he was relieved to see his other friends had made it back okay, but they weren’t who he was looking for.

Caspar elbowed his way through the crowd, struggling to see anything over the shoulders of the many people in the crowd who towered over him.

His chest puffed as annoyance began to mix into his feelings of worry. Why did he have to be so _small?_

“Linhardt!” He finally called out, oddly desperate for a response.

Finally he saw him, just standing there in the back of the group. 

Typical Linhardt. Bored, tired, and _okay._ Finally seeing him brought up a weird mix of relief and other emotions in Caspar’s throat that made him feel like he was going to hurl.

Luckily, he didn’t hurl, but he ran.

His legs lurched forward before his head understood what was happening.

Suddenly Linhardt was right in front of him and even more suddenly then that his arms had shot out around the taller boy’s waist.

Stopping from a dead sprint so quickly made Caspar’s spine arch backward as he tried to keep himself from crashing into Linhardt.

Caspar was talking, but he didn’t know what he was saying.

The first thing he did notice was the lack of searing pain he expected from crashing into another person full force.

Then he felt the toe of a boot lightly bump into his ankle as Linhardt’s feet dangled just above the ground. He feels the unmistakable feeling of fingers press into his biceps and unfamiliar hands gripped his arms, not pushing him away.

Then he realized that he was holding something firm and lean tightly to his chest.

Where did Linhardt go?

Then he feels that his face is pressed into something hard and warm. There’s a soft pulsating against his cheek he can’t place. When his eyes opened he looked up and caught a glimpse of dark green strands of hair in front of his face.

Then he realized that _oh,_ that was Linhardt.

Oh no.

All of the realizations crash into him all at once.

He is holding him up. Linhardt is suspended in the air in Caspar’s arms and it's so... _effortless._

While Linhardt wasn’t light by any means, holding him up in the air against himself felt like the easiest task in the whole world.

Had this gone on a split second? Was this going on too long?

Stop. Stop. Stop.

Let him go.

Then he pulled away, and the moment was gone.

Now Linhardt was gone.

And Caspar was still staring at the place where he had just been, trying to string together some sort of explanation for whenever Linhardt would find him again.

***

**Monday, 10th day of Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

Linhardt found him the next day.

It’s not like he’s hard to find, or that Caspar is hiding from him.

He definitely wasn’t hiding from him.

After class Caspar was grabbing several things off of his desk he needed to run to his dorm before heading to dinner. Everyone knows that the worst possible time to talk to a person about incredibly awkward situations is just before dinner.

“Caspar.” A voice from behind him called to him in a slow, meticulous way. 

Oh Goddess, not now.

He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

He still did turn around, stumbling in surprise as if the voice caught him off guard. He was never one to be caught off guard. Yet, turning around and finding himself face to face with the person he expected to be standing in front of him still made him feel very not on guard.

He quickly shoved down a weird feeling of vulnerability building in his chest as he forced a wide smile. Stop worrying, this is _Linhardt,_ not some enemy waiting to gut you. Just Linhardt.

Just his long-time friend. Just unassuming, brilliant, _perfect_ Linhardt.

“Oh hey, Linhardt! Didn’t see you there, bud!” Caspar’s mouth started running before his brain could finish his train of thought.

“... _Right_. You know what I’m going to ask you about, yes?”

“Uh...” Quick, think up a lie, “Nope!” Bad lie. Try again. “Hey, I have somewhere I just remembered I have to be right now! And I have to go. Right now.”

Linhardt’s eyes widened as his eyebrows raised. If Caspar didn’t know him as well as he did he would have missed the hint of what looked like amusement in his expression. That expression made him freeze up.

As Caspar was trying to figure out what it meant, Linhardt leisurely pulled up a chair to sit in and gestured to a second chair beside himself for Caspar to take a seat, which he does without thinking.

Once he’s seated next to him, Linhardt continues, “So, Caspar.” The way Linhardt repeated his name again in that slow cool way makes Caspar feel weird, “What on Earth was that about?”

“I don’t know! Affection?” When he noticed Linhardt’s now clearly surprised expression he continued babbling on, loudly backtracking, “I just mean that I-! I don’t know! I was just worried, and when I saw you I just got so overwhelmed and I just- it just happened.”

“Hm... “ Linhardt made a long low hum in the back of his throat. The sound was oddly soothing, and the thoughtful expression Linhardt wore as he interrogated him made Caspar’s mouth feel dry. 

After holding suspicious eye contact with him for a painful amount of time. Linhardt’s gaze drifted downward. He knitted his brows together and brought his hand up to mess with a lock of his hair as he thought. His mouth moved slightly as he muttered to himself.

His face made Caspar feel upset. Or was embarrassed the right word? 

Either way it felt like an uncomfortable pressure in his chest.

“Okay.” Linhardt said firmly as he looked back up and met Caspar’s eyes again. Caspar’s shoulders tensed up slightly and relaxed again at the sound of Linhardt’s voice.

Talking was a welcome distraction from the discomfort Caspar was feeling. 

Talking. He’s saying words. Said in such a low, quiet way that Caspar nearly didn’t hear then. “Do it again.” 

Wait, now talking was bad.

“Huh!?” Caspar quickly snapped back into the moment, Linhardt leaned forward slightly before continuing.

“Apologies, let me rephrase that...” Linhardt took a deep, uncomfortable breath and released it slowly. He stood again to his full height, and unable to explain why, Caspar slowly stood again with him. 

When they’re both standing Caspar suddenly realized how close they were.

Why was he warm?

Linhardt paused, looking down at him and slowly spoke again, “Caspar, I would like you to do it again.”

As he talked, thin, long fingers lightly wrapped around his left wrist as Linhardt slowly pulled Caspar’s arm closer to his own waist.

Caspar can feel the slow drag of Linhardt’s calm breath against his face.

The strange pull at the center of Caspar’s chest felt unbearable, like he was going to explode.

And suddenly he was so aware of how close his face was to Linhardt’s, but his vision was so wildly out of focus he couldn’t see him.

His face felt hot now.

And it’s-

It’s too much.

BANG!

Mercifully, someone shut a large wooden door too hard nearby, and the loud noise startled Caspar into action again.

He panicked and picked up a few of the things he had been gathering off his desk, still leaving several of the things he would need for homework that night, and began backing up towards the door. 

Now it was Linhardt who seemed to have frozen up. After turning to face Caspar as he was leaving his face was illuminated clearly by the evening light from the doorway. Caspar couldn’t place his expression, but it made him feel weird.

Disappointment?

Say something, don’t let this be weird. “Ah! Haha! Linhardt, you’re so funny! Now I really have to go, but I’ll see you later!” Good enough. With that he gave Linhardt a soft, awkward punch on the shoulder before leaving the room in a hurry.

Linhardt stayed behind and sighed, slumping into the desk.

This was more than bad.

It was heartbreaking.

He just didn’t know it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a little bit of time to figure out Caspar's character, but I'm pretty happy with this so far.


	3. Friday, 15th day of Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1180

Perhaps he had been too forward. 

If Caspar’s initial behavior upon his return was sudden, then this new change in behavior was absolutely drastic.

Honestly, Caspar was being incredibly too dramatic about all of this. They hadn’t talked to one another in nearly a week now. Normally it was Caspar who sought out Linhardt and initiated their daily conversations, yet lately he barely saw him. Linhardt genuinely surprised himself with the number of times he made an actual effort to find Caspar in order to converse with him the last several days, and yet every single opportunity he found to speak to him Caspar would blather some excuse and hurry off. It was abnormal, and it was infuriating. If Caspar was going to go through all the trouble to avoid him then he could have at least put in the extra effort to make it not so painfully obvious. 

That day particularly Linhardt found himself stuck listening to yet another lecture he did not care about, and trying in vain to ignore Caspar’s _valiant_ attempts to not look at him. The poor boy’s leg was bouncing so erratically it made his desk rattle and his papers skirt across the tabletop. Honestly if he didn’t stop soon Caspar would surely knock over his whole ink bottle into his lap. 

Other students in their class were taking notice now. Whether or not they were aware of the reasons behind it, they were certainly aware of the loud, repetitive rapping of Caspar’s knee into the hard wood of his desk. Caspar himself didn’t seem to notice though. Linhardt swore he could practically smell the coal burning between his ears as he struggled to hold his concentration on the words Professor Byleth had written on the board in front of them. Frankly it was kind of sad. He couldn’t help but feel something along the lines of pity for him.

With that Linhardt suddenly became acutely aware that he was investing far too much mental energy into the absolute disaster unfolding in front of him, and how tiring it was doing so.

Daytime fatigue was quite common for Linhardt, but his sleep deprivation as of late had been particularly brutal. Even without the added bother of the situation, falling asleep when he was actually supposed to rarely came easy. His nights were often spent sprawled over his research notes and books away in his room or the library, night fishing at the pond, or aimlessly wandering through the empty halls of the monastery when he needed a break from either activity. However, every night since Caspar and his uncomfortable discord began had been absolutely restless for him. Even when Linhardt wanted to go to sleep the task was nearly impossible, and every consecutive day a certain someone spent ignoring him seemed to make the problem worsen. 

Now Linhardt was falling asleep upright in the middle of class. Mercifully, his classmates’ attention was thoroughly divided between the lecture and Caspar at that moment, so no one would really notice if he dozed off for a bit. Sleep was a much needed distraction from his current circumstances.

***

Linhardt wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had fallen asleep, but a sudden change in Professor Byleth’s stern, commanding voice roused him once more.

“Caspar,” the professor repeated before continuing in his monotone way. Hearing Caspar’s name prompted Linhardt to raise his head and glance up over the arm he had been using as a pillow. “You have been ramming your leg into your desk for nearly an hour.” The professor was standing in front of Caspar’s desk, leaning slightly so he was nearly eye level with him. Caspar bolted upright, and Linhardt noticed the tips of his ears flushing pink from where he was sitting at the back of the room. 

Caspar looked something like a startled animal when he realized the whole class was staring at him. “Oh, yeah! Sorry, professor. I’m just a little jittery today. Ha.” He laughed as he physically struggled to force his leg to still. Unfortunately after a mere few seconds of stillness his whole body began to shake wildly. The hue of his blush deepened as he babbled half formed excuses. If the whole scene wasn’t exceptionally humiliating, it could almost be endearing.

“I see that.” Professor Byleth stated simply before continuing, “Step outside with me.” His request was more of a gentle command than a question, and Caspar was certainly not going to argue with him. He rose from his chair sheepishly, looking probably the most timid Linhardt had ever seen him in his life, and walked out of the room. Linhardt had to force his gaze away from him as the boy passed his desk on the way out. 

Professor Byleth followed shortly, but stopped to address the class before actually leaving the room. “When I return we will begin individual instruction sections. Start looking over the next chapter of your books in the meantime.” With that, he exited and closed the door behind him as he did so. After a brief moment of silence gossiping chatter began all at once, as if the room had been suddenly cued to do so.

Edelgard spoke first. “Caspar has been acting out of sorts all week. I wonder what could have possibly gotten into him?” She spun herself around in her chair as she talked in order to face the rest of her classmates from the front row. 

Hubert nodded in response to her statement before speaking himself. “Frankly, the professor is much too gentle in these situations. I was prepared to nail his foot into the floor.”

Dorothea laughed at him, and for a split second Hubert looked absolutely abashed. “Oh Hubert,” Dorothea playfully chided, “you have to stop being so dramatic.” In kind, Hubert silently glared at her, affirming that no, he was most certainly not exaggerating in his statement. Linhardt internally flinched in response to their interaction. He hadn’t a single doubt in his mind that Hubert was absolutely not just being dramatic. The mental image of Caspar being nailed to the floor wasn’t a pleasant one. It certainly would not have prevented Caspar from being a distraction during class either, as his wailing would undoubtedly have proven to be an even greater nuisance than the earlier tapping.

“I like that the professor is kind.” Bernadette added quietly, “I always feel like he cares.” Dorothea turned to her, happy for a reason to cease interacting with Hubert. 

“Oh absolutely! It’s just one of the many reasons he’s _so hot_.” She exaggerated her last few words pretending to swoon while fanning herself. Petra’s brows knit together in confusion at Dorothea’s statement.

“Why is the professor’s kindness increasing his temperature?” She asked inquisitively, which made Dorothea laugh again. 

“No, no. Not like that. Calling someone hot is like calling someone attractive.” Petra paused and considered her words carefully before responding. “Oh, then yes.” She smiled and nodded confidently before continuing. “The professor is quite full of hotness.”

Edelgard rose from her desk, clearly distraught by the conversation. “Enough of this. Do not teach her words of that nature.” A barely noticeable, soft pink blush was painted across her features. 

Dorothea pouted back at her and continued to tease. “ _Edelgard_ , are you telling me you don’t think the professor is one of the most handsome men at the monastery-? Yes, including you Ferdie.”

“I am not denying anything.” Edelgard snapped back coldly, crossing her arms and legs as she sank back into her chair. “I am just well aware that it is unwise to discuss such things as that in the professor’s own classroom, unlike yourself.” 

With that the conversation devolved into Dorothea and Edelgard glaring at each other angrily from opposite sides of the room until Professor Byleth walked back in. Apparently, today was the day that everyone embarrassed themselves in the middle of class. Secretly, though he would never just publicly discuss it as the girls had, Linhardt agreed with them. Professor Byleth was a very handsome man.

The professor addressed the class when he entered. “Caspar is feeling off today and will return to us tomorrow. In the meantime, I will work with Edelgard, Dorothea, and Ferdinand on close range weapons training. Everyone else continue reading your textbook chapters and materials on your emphasis. Anything left over is homework.” Before he made his way up to the front of the class, Professor Byleth stopped beside Linhardt’s desk, setting his hand gently on the wood surface. While he spoke softly, everyone in the small room could still hear him clearly. “Linhardt. Feel free to rest your head for a minute, but I need to speak with you after class.”

While Linhardt was never one to really feel embarrassed, he certainly felt uncomfortable with everyone staring at him in that moment. He yawned to emphasize his disregard for the situation, and laid his head back down on his desk.

The whole situation would just have to become a problem for future Linhardt.

***

There was no reason for the professor to ask him about Caspar.

There was nothing for Linhardt to even say about Caspar.

If the professor asked him about Caspar, which he obviously wouldn’t, he would have nothing to say because he clearly did not have anything to say about Caspar. Yet there he was, sitting at his desk as everyone else cleared the room for the day, stringing together a logical explanation for Caspar’s drastic change in behavior to his professor.

Professor Byleth waited for the room to be empty before he spoke again. “Linhardt. Come over here please. I won’t speak to you from across the room.” Another demand. The professor always spoke as if giving an order. His stern commands worked well enough for battle, but were quite intimidating in regular conversation. Linhardt made a sincere effort to deflect his demand and avoid the confrontation all together. “I could just go then, if that would be easier for you. Then you would not have to talk to me at all.”

“Linhardt.” Though the professor’s tone was always calm, the way he said his name made all of his muscles go oddly tense.

“Okay.” He responded curtly. Linhardt sighed in exasperation as he stood, and mindlessly glided down the center walkway of the room to sit down in another chair beside the professor’s desk. They silently held eye contact with one another for a few moments before Linhardt spoke again. “Yes, professor?” 

Professor Byleth nodded before glancing down at the notes on his desk and continuing. “I want you to start training with Manuela in the infirmary in between classes.” 

Oh. This actually had nothing to do with Caspar.

Linhardt breathed an amused sigh of relief. Still, the prospect of working in the infirmary was less than appealing. “That sounds like quite a lot of work, and I’m already studying under Hannaman once a week pursuing my crest research. I simply can’t go cutting into my nap time so needlessly professor. I require proper rest if I’m expected to function at peak performance on the battlefield.”

Professor Byleth sighed before leaning back in his chair. The hints of an expression betrayed the professor's typically blank demeanor, appearing to be something of a mix of frustration and amusement. “Linhardt. I want to meet you where you are. I know you don’t like fighting, but I need you to focus on something. You’re an exceptional healer, and getting some hands on experience in the infirmary would be good for you.”

The concept of a teacher making an effort to _“meet him where he was”_ was both endearing and fascinating in an admittedly non academic manner. Rationally, it was rather pointless to entertain a meaningless crush on one’s own teacher. It was quite normal for one to potentially develop some sort of attraction to one’s authority figures, yet Linhardt was still rather bemused by his own budding emotions. 

Prior to attending the Officer’s Academy he had all but convinced himself that he was simply incapable of experiencing any sort of desire for another human being, which was fine, he didn’t actually plan on marrying and settling down into the comfortable noble life his father hoped for him anyway. However, now after coming to know Professor Byleth Linhardt slowly came to realize that it wasn’t necessarily that he couldn’t desire the company of another person, it was that he only seemed to desire the company of strong, handsome _men._ It was a new yet simple fact about himself he came to terms with fairly easily, one that his father would _certainly_ be thrilled to learn whenever he found out.

In all earnest, Professor Byleth triggering some sort of awakening in him was actually quite logical. The professor appeared to be close to his own age, was undeniably handsome under his stoic facade, and dear Goddess, that _crest._ Linhardt had read all of Hannaman’s notes on the subject that he could get his hands on, but honestly his research had just raised so many more unanswered _questions._ There were few things Linhardt couldn’t see himself doing in order to get his professor to allow him to conduct his own research, to pull him apart and discover every secret there was to know- in a purely scholarly sense.

A snap of fingers and Professor Byleth’s voice pulled him out from his spiraling theories and quite vivid imagination. “Stop dozing off while I’m talking to you.” Linhardt felt the professor waiting for him to return his gaze before continuing, so he forced his best bored expression and did so. “Thank you. Now, if you agree to do this, I will dismiss you from weapons training for the foreseeable future. You’ll still be required to do your defensive maneuver drills. I don’t want something to happen to you on the battlefield you can’t get out of.” Professor Byleth maintained eye contact with him, keeping his dead serious composure as he talked. 

Beyond the fact it was still work, healing some scraped knees and sprained wrists did sound much easier than being forced to wield a sword. The sentiment in the professor’s words were also appreciated, Linhardt certainly didn’t want to find himself dead on the battlefield either. Linhardt pretended to mull it over before speaking. “Okay. I’ll consider your offer.” With that he rose again from his chair and turned to leisurely leave the room, still maintaining eye contact over his shoulder as he did. 

Then the professor did something completely unexpected, he actually _smiled_ and shook his head before countering. “You’ll start on Monday.” 

Linhardt scoffed dramatically, before a small hint of a smile pulled at his lips. “Oh, you can be so pushy, professor. Fine, I’ll start Monday.”

The professor gave a nod of both approval and permission for Linhard to leave. “Alright, thank you.” As soon as the professor finished speaking Linhardt made his way to the door. When he reached the end of the room Professor Byleth continued behind him, his words making him falter for a mere moment. “Also, please check on Caspar this weekend. I know you two are close.” 

Linhardt nodded in agreement, yet had no actual intention to do so. Then, without a word more, he retreated down the halls toward the safety of his room.


	4. Saturday, 22nd day of Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1180

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains graphic violence, piss (degradation/not kink), and self loathing.
> 
> Aka: Caspar looses a fight. Badly.

_It wasn’t like he wanted someone to hurt him._

“Hah! Gotcha!” His fist swiped up and connected with the underside of the guy’s jaw with a loud crack.

_He was never the one to start a fight, mostly, but he would always be the one to finish it._

“Agh!” A swift kick from a hard boot scraped away a layer of sensitive skin from his shin.

_Caspar just happened to have been finishing a lot of fights lately._

The sleeves of his dress shirt were uncharacteristically rolled down and buttoned securely at his wrists. If he was pressed on it, he would have insisted that the chill Red Wolf Moon air was getting to him, but honestly it was more to hide the growing number of angry bruises dotting his arms.

He always did his best to just walk off the pain, but with every new scrap he threw himself into it was getting harder and harder to ignore it.

And the pain was all encompassing in that moment. 

Caspar sucked in another deep breath of air as he stepped back and wiped the growing amount of sweat and blood from his face. It was getting harder to determine what fluids were the other guy’s smeared across his face and what was his own.

This fight was quickly going south.

His string of thoughts trying to scrape together a next move were shattered once more as another solid fist connected with the hard bone just outside his eye socket. Color flashed across his vision as the new burst of explosive pain impaired his sight.

How had he even gotten into this situation this time? 

It was a blur. He had been walking back to the monastery around sundown after making a day out of running some much needed errands he had been putting off. 

All he could remember beyond that was that these guys definitely deserved the beating they were getting.

Luckily the adrenaline outweighed the immense pain he was feeling, or Caspar would have gone down a while ago. 

He brought his left arm up again, prepping for another hit on the guy starting to collapse in front of him. 

The second guy had his arms locked around Caspar’s middle, trying to knock him off balance. Caspar’s left elbow was lodged firmly into the divot between the guy’s collarbone and his chest, trying to push him off.

“Hyah-ah!?” When he went to bring his fist back down again another hand from a man just entering the fray caught his wrist in a vice-like grip. 

That was when things got really bad.

Two guys he could handle no problem, but he wasn’t expecting the third.

Before he could process what was happening, his arm was twisted forcefully up behind his back and a large arm pressed up against his throat from behind him. The action combined with the disrupted momentum of his attack allowed the other man grappling him to fully swipe Caspar’s ankles out from under him.

Worse than that, the struggle also gave the man Caspar had tried to hit the needed time to regain his composure. 

Once he was up again, the grizzly man grabbed Caspar by the jaw forcefully, turning his face in his hand. Caspar glared at him, and the man laughed in his face.

“You happy now? What were you even trying to do, punk?” 

When Caspar opened his mouth to spit back a reply, the man shoved his thumb up into his upper gums before he could get a word out, tearing the skin of his lip as he did so. 

His mouth began to salivate and he tasted the coppery tang of his own blood from around the place when the guy had scratched him.

Caspar took a good look at him. This guy was just some petty bully stirring up trouble outside of the local tavern. The skin of his face was rough and scarred, and from what Caspar could see of him in the light from the buildings nearby, Caspar had broken his nose. His breath reeked of too much booze, and without his buddies to back him up, he’d be kind of pathetic. 

The guy’s buddy behind him still held Caspar painfully in place, but the second lackey had fallen behind the man in front of him, jeering.

The first guy continued as the second eagerly egged him on. “Dumb kid. Trying to play big strong hero? Little runts like you piss me off.” He sneered, and spat in Caspar’s face when he finished.

Oh that was just uncalled for.

Caspar was fuming and still couldn’t say anything in reply with the guy’s hand in his mouth, so he bit down hard on the skin between his thumb and index finger instead.

As the guy in his face recoiled back, the man behind him tightened the arm on his throat and wrenched his arm up far past his shoulder blades. There was a sickening pop of a joint disconnecting, and a large crack of bone. 

He screamed. They laughed at him.

White hot pain shot through his arm and into his finger tips. His eyes watered and he bit his lip to hide any more pained sounds from escaping.

This guy was much bigger than him, and Caspar was basically at his mercy with him having his now very broken arm in his grasp.

Was he going to die here? In a street fight behind some alleyway?

He cursed himself silently as he tried to think up a way out.

He had never been good at thinking things through.

Then he remembered a conversation he had with Linhardt, not long before everything got all weird.

_“Exploit the enemy's weakness, Caspar.”_

The weakness of a tall opponent. Right. Simple, and that was to...

He fought to recall the memory given the dire situation and the intense pain distracting him. 

_Linhardt was talking, smiling with that mirthful hint of a smile like he always did when he was pleased with himself. While Caspar couldn’t remember the words, he could see his lips moving clearly and managed to make out what he was looking for._

_“Go for-”_ The knees!

They really did make a good team. 

With newfound determination, Caspar brought his left leg up and shoved the heel of his foot back into the front of the man’s knee.

He couldn’t see it, but he heard the noise of bone breaking and the man yelling in his ear as he assumed the guy's leg ripped backward unnaturally at the joint.

It did make him let go, unfortunately not before he twisted Caspar’s body to the left as he staggered, slamming him face first into the stone wall of the alley. 

As soon as he hit the wall Caspar’s body crumpled down into the slimy, wet dirt of the alleyway.

The guy staggered back, propping himself up against a barrel. His buddies cussed and hollered in the commotion before turning their attention back to Caspar, seething.

“You just don’t give up do you, kid?” One spat down at him. He couldn’t really tell which.

A boot on his hip kicked him over onto his back again. Then it came back down again hard into his ribs. 

“Hgh!” He coughed and spluttered, his lungs spasming as he gasped for air.

These guys were _jerks,_

“Little punk. Maybe you should learn not to go sticking your nose into other people’s business.”

Twisting pain ripped through his body as the boot came back down into his side. 

His yell was cut short into a gurgling gasp as a second shoe came down hard on his neck.

An excessive amount of fluid flew from his mouth in the ensuing coughing fit. 

It was too dark to see what it was.

“Don’t worry. We’re going to make sure you don’t forget this little lesson for a long, long time.”

His arms flew up to guard his face from the barrage of feet stomping and kicking him.

After both a too short, yet agonizingly long period of time the onslaught stopped. The men spoke to each other, but Caspar couldn’t make out what they were saying.

There was the sound of shuffling, then the feeling of warm wetness against his skin as it seeped through the cloth of his shirt.

He kept his face covered.

It was definitely better to just not look than see some guy _pissing_ on him.

They all laughed again. “You’re welcome, kid.” One sneered.

The man whose knee he had shattered spat on him, and another man got in one more good kick to his stomach before the group casually went on about their evening.

This wasn’t the first time, even this week, that he had gotten the absolute snot beat out of himself, but this was particularly brutal.

Usually he could still walk away after, even if he lost miserably, but in that moment he couldn’t even bring himself to move.

He curled up on himself, looking like a twitching pile pressed up against the wall.

_Poor little Caspar._

A nobleman with absolutely nothing, beaten to a pulp. He looked pathetic. 

_He was pathetic._

He did all of this to get stronger- at least that’s what he always told himself- but it still wasn’t enough. He wasn’t strong.

_He deserved this._

Caspar heard the sound of footsteps coming from the opposite end of the alley.

_Maybe those guys came to finish him off._

“Hello?” They hadn’t. The footsteps rushed towards him. The familiar, distinctly female voice spoke up again. “Hey, are you- oh my Goddess! Caspar!?”

He felt the person kneeling in front of him, so he looked up to meet her gaze. 

It was that pink haired girl from the Golden Deer House, Hilda. They had talked a few times after the professor had requested her assistance on some of their battles. She was nice. At that moment her matching pink eyes were staring at him in bewilderment. 

“Goddess, what happened to you?” She demanded, helping him sit up.

Caspar laughed nervously, messing with the sweaty strands of hair at the back.

of his head. “... I got in a fight. Ha. You should see the other guys.”

She paused, both absolutely shocked and slightly angry. “ _Guys?”_

His ears flushed pink in embarrassment. “Yeah. Ha. Got ‘em real good.”

Hilda’s eyes closing and brows knitting together in irritation. She was huffy at first, but softened slightly seeing through the cocky facade Caspar was clinging to. “Caspar. This is exactly why I told you to show some- you know what? Nevermind, not the time. I’ll scold you for this later. Can you walk?” 

“I... I think so.” He mumbled. Hilda smiled in response to this and stood.

“Then get up.” She commanded, offering him her hand.

He took it, and though he wavered, he did manage to stand on his feet again. He grunted in pain and staggered as he took a step forward. Hilda rushed to his side to support him.

“Hey, hey. Take it easy. Ugh, c’mon.” She grabbed onto his arm and hoisted it over her shoulder, helping to carry some of his body weight. “Here, lean on me. I can’t believe you’re making me work right now.” She teased him with half serious annoyance.

He hissed again, but quieted himself quickly. “Sorry.”

“Hey. I’m just teasing. It’s fine, really.” Hilda assured him as she started to walk. Caspar stiffly shuffled along beside her, and she nodded reassuringly. “Let’s just get you back to the monastery.” 

He nodded, and continued to walk. “Can you help patch me up again?” He asked hopefully.

She sighed and smiled softly as she shook her head. “Sorry, no can do. You did a lot more damage to yourself than I can handle on my own. We have to get you to the infirmary.”

He hung his head in disappointment, but still nodded again. “Okay.”

Linhardt had started working in the infirmary that week, but with how late it probably was it was unlikely he would be there.

Secretly Caspar hoped he wouldn’t be.

It wasn’t as if he was trying to avoid Linhardt, just lately things had felt all weird when he was around him. It was a tight, funny feeling that annoyed him with its relentless pull. He didn’t understand it, and it frustrated him. So he did what he had to in order to ignore it.

Which unfortunately meant not being able to talk to his best friend, and this. _Fighting,_

Pain burned through every nerve in Caspar’s body with every step he took forward.

The pain from all the brawls he had been in lately weighted heavily on him, but it wasn’t so bad. This pain always pushed him and motivated him to work harder to get stronger. 

This pain was safe. It was familiar, and unlike the weird feeling in his chest, this pain had a name.

By that point the two had made it up the wide expanse of steps leading up to the monastery, and headed through the empty halls towards the second floor.

The stairs were a doozy. They had to stop for a moment halfway through before Caspar could make it to the top.

They rounded the corner and continued down the hall towards the infirmary. “We’re almost there, then Manuela will get you all taken care of.” Hilda reassured him.

It worked too. At least up until Hilda pushed open the door into the room they needed to enter.

_Oh Goddess, this just wasn’t his night._

There, alone in infirmary, was both the first and last person Caspar wanted to see.

He was partially turned away from them as they entered, but still unmistakable.

His long limbs were crossed over himself loosely, and while it was still partially pulled back with a white ribbon he always wore, the one that Caspar had given him, his curtain of green hair obscured his face as his body lent forward into the book he was hunched over.

Upon hearing them enter. Linhardt marked his place in the book he had been reading, without bothering to look up. “Just a moment.” He mumbled absently.

“Actually, I’ll be fine. I just gotta sleep this off, don’t mind me-” Caspar leaned over and muttered under his breath quickly as he tried to turn back and leave again. 

Hilda caught him roughly by one of his battered arms before he could wander off too far. 

“Ngh!” Turning to leave made his head spin, and the small burst of pain from where she grabbed him caused him to yelp quietly, at which point the other man in the room finally looked up. 

Caspar immediately locked eyes with the floor, both trying to ward off the sudden dizziness and to hide his embarrassment. 

Just being in the same room now brought up that weird feeling again he had been trying to avoid.

Even with the intense lingering pain of his injuries, that weird, tight feeling in his chest was by far more overwhelming. 

He heard the creaking of an old wooden chair, assumingly from Linhardt standing.

_No, don’t get up._

“Caspar?” His own name sounded hollow and distant over the ringing in his ears, but the hint of concern in his friend’s voice made him look up again.

_It’s fine. Don’t come closer._

Linhardt was on his feet now, slowly walking towards them.

_How do you glide like that when you walk?_

Caspar felt so embarrassed, yet relieved to see him again, and guilty for both feelings.

_I don’t want you to see me like this._

The last thing he saw was Linhardt moving faster towards them, the image slowly turned on its side and tunneling as Caspar fell to the floor.


	5. Sunday, 5th day of Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1172

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***t/w for this chapter: mentions of miscarriage***
> 
> I'm such a sap for childhood Linhardt and Caspar. This flashback wound up growing to over 6000 words, so I'm cutting it in half. I'll finish up the second half and upload it later.

_This was silly. Yet here he was, entertaining the game Caspar wanted them to play._

_“98 ...” What was even the point of counting out loud? Even though his eyes were closed, his forehead was pressed into the wood of his bed frame, just as Caspar had told him to. Honestly Linhardt would have preferred to be the one hiding again, then he could have just napped in a closet for however long it would have taken for his friend to find him. However, Caspar had begged for Linhardt to be the seeker this time, so he obliged. It was so ironic. Caspar was acting so spoiled, yet it wasn’t even his birthday they were supposed to be celebrating._

_“99 ...100. Okay Caspar. I’m done counting.” He called out as he sat back up and opened his eyes. “You better actually be hiding this time. If you try to pop out and scare me again I’ll pinch you.” He brushed the hair out of his eyes before briefly scanning his bedroom for any clues of his friend’s hiding place. It was highly unlikely that Caspar had hidden in there, he would have heard him while he was counting. Still, he wouldn’t put something like that past him. Linhardt swung his feet over the edge of the bed, standing once his toes hit the floor._

_Linhardt was eight-years-old, and would turn nine in two days. Caspar had arrived at the Hevring Estate yesterday morning, after somehow managing to convince his father to once again let him stay over at Linhardt’s for the whole week of his birthday. It was beginning to become somewhat of a habit to expect Caspar for that week every year, not that he actually minded. Linhardt was an only child, and it was nice having someone else his age around once in a while._

_Even if it was just Caspar._

_Especially if it was just Caspar._

_Linhardt yawned as he scoured the room, debating for a moment on whether or not he should just lay back down on the bed until Caspar came out from wherever he had hid. He brushed the thought away begrudgingly, knowing that Caspar would never let him hear the end of it if he did. While the idea was slightly amusing, the mental image of Caspar waking him up as he angrily babble at him was mostly unpleasant. With that Linhardt concluded that he wasn’t hiding in Linhardt’s bedroom and exited the room to continue searching._

_Linhardt messed with a lock of his hair as he walked down the long second floor hallway, pulling the soft strand forward into his face and fussing with it between his upper lip and his fingers. It was an action he did absentmindedly as he opened each door and peeked inside every room he passed. There was still no sign of Caspar, and Linhardt begrudgingly acknowledged to himself the fact that his friend’s small stature put him at an advantage with games like this. At least for once it's an advantage, unfortunately for Linhardt it also meant that this game would prove to be more time consuming than he had initially considered when agreeing. Then his half-hearted hunting was interrupted by a sound coming from his old nursery at the end of the hall._

_“Caspar?” He called softly as he opened the door. There was a person there, but it wasn’t Caspar. It was Linhardt’s mother, sitting in a rocking chair set by the door and working on another one of her embroidery projects. He yanked his hand that had been playing with his hair down at his side again before she saw him. His other hand didn’t leave the doorknob. She looked up from her work, having heard him enter, and seeing who it was she smiled fondly. He just stared back blankly at her, slightly disappointed that this meant that the game was still going on now. “Oh. Hello Mother.” He said in his soft, monotone way. “Have you seen Caspar?”_

_Her face fell forward slightly as her smile widened, and she deftly brought her hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. Her curtain of long green hair fell forward into her face as she did so, making it so that Linhardt couldn’t make out her expression, or understand why she was laughing. She recovered quickly, sighing and looking back up to him once she did, still smiling. “Oh Goddess Linhardt, have you lost that poor boy already?”_

_He blinked his eyes slowly as he looked at her, then scanned the room for Caspar. While he didn’t have any problems with his mother, she wasn’t who he was looking for at that moment. “No. We’re playing a game. I’m supposed to find him.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot, antsy to keep looking._

_“Then it wouldn’t do you any good for me to just tell you where he is, would it?” She asked back in that inquisitive, yet dismissive way every mom seemed to be skilled in. She had gone back to pulling the thread through her embroidery work again, still meeting his gaze opposed to looking down at what she was doing. Her eyes always looked so tired, maybe he inherited that from her._

_Linhardt didn’t pick up on the hint of sarcasm in her tone, he just shrugged and answered plainly. “It would save me a lot of time looking for him.”_

_She laughed again, shaking her head slowly as she did. “Ha ha, very funny young man. No. You’re going to have to find him yourself.” She paused and looked back up at him, her smile dropping into a more serious expression before continuing. “Just make sure you boys are playing quietly, okay? Your father is working in his study right now.”_

_“Yes, Mother.” He nodded, beginning to pull the door closed as he backed up from the room. "I’m going to go find Caspar now. Bye.”_

_His mother called after him gently as he did so. “Wait. Linhardt honey, your hair is falling in your face again.” She reached out as she spoke, seeking to push back the unkempt strands from her son’s face. Linhardt backed away from her touch, and she slowly let her hand fall back to her side. The corners of her mouth remained quirked up, but the smile had faded from her eyes._

_“I know, Mother.” He spoke and nodded uncomfortably, feeling the sadness in her expression, yet unsure how to respond to it. He settled on giving her a stiff hug and a brisk kiss on the cheek before promptly backing out of the room and shutting the door before she could say any more to him. “Bye.” he mumbled to her through the crack in the door as it shut._

_His hand lingered on the doorknob briefly before releasing it. He wasn’t sure why, but he strongly despised that room. Perhaps it was just a simple thing that could be explained away as changing feelings as he was growing up. Perhaps he was a bad son. His mother always seemed to be sad over something._

_Not too long ago her mood had shifted drastically, though the change was short lived. Last summer Linhardt’s parents mentioned excitedly that he was to have a baby sibling. Even his dad had seemed enthusiastic, which was exceedingly rare. Then one day they just stopped mentioning it. No sibling arrived. When he brought the subject up again he was met with silent stares from both his parents and the household staff, all urging his silence. He had shrugged it off easily enough, not caring about the situation enough to pry further._

_Ever since, he rarely saw his mother. Nearly every day after breakfast she would resign herself to sitting alone in the empty nursery for hours on end, poking away at another embroidery piece. Linhardt wondered what the appeal of those projects were to her, but didn’t entertain the thought long. He still needed to find Caspar._

_He wandered through the rest of the gloomy halls in his family’s home, checking each room as he went by. There was still no sign of him._

_Linhardt was rapidly losing all interest in their little game now. He let his attention drift to the window beside him, fixating on the outside world._

_A soft curtain of snow from earlier that morning blanketed the entire yard as far as the eye could see. While the initial snowfall had stopped hours ago, the brilliant white sheet still glistening in the midday sun. Linhardt could make out the vague shapes of the trees and shrubberies that lined the large wrought iron fence, strategically planted in order to better block the property’s view from the main street. Then he noticed the footprints._

_The fresh snow was perfectly pristine and completely untouched, except just out front of the house. The snow there was marred by the evidence of an erratic myriad of footfalls, as if an excitable puppy who had been cooped up all day had been let out recently for a run around the yard. However, the prints definitely weren’t from a dog. The von Hevrings didn’t have a dog, and besides, the tracks were clearly from the boots of a small, hyperactive human child. There was one particularly large impression in the mess, appearing as if said human child had fallen face first into the snowbank while sprinting full speed. The mental image of the incident pulled at the corner of Linhardt’s lips, but the realization that Caspar was likely still out there spoiled the whole moment._

_Linhardt threw his head back and held it there, stamping his foot and groaning theatrically to express his displeasure. “Caspar. If you are trying to make me go outside in this I am going to be so mad at you.” He grumbled to himself in annoyance. He opened one eye and scanned the hallway he was in, half hoping for some sort of response. When there was none, he sighed in utter exasperation and went to grab his overcoat and gloves from where they were hung neatly in the entryway closet._

_He pulled on his garments hastily and carelessly missing a button on his coat, before he tentatively opened the large oak door that led outside. As soon as the icy air hit his cheeks Linhardt recoiled and closed the door again in disgust. This was the worst thing that could have possibly happened to him ever, and it was all Caspar’s fault. He silently made a mental note to tell Caspar as much, as soon as he found him. He huffed, bunching the fabric of his overcoat in his fist around the opening of the collar. He braced himself for the cold he knew was coming, and opened the door once more._

_For the first few moments, the bright white of the outside world hurt Linhardt’s eyes. He walked forward, out to the snowed over brick pathway that winded out of the estate. He didn’t have to go very far. Though Linhardt couldn’t see anyone, he did hear the sounds of someone fighting to conceal their giggling from somewhere above him. Linhardt snapped his head up to one of the trees nearby, but there was nothing there. The stifled sounds erupted into snorts of laughter, easily revealing the source._

_He whipped his body back around towards the house and looked up._

_The first thing he saw was the bright blue hair and matching wild eyes of his obnoxious, yet endearing best friend in the whole wide world. Caspar was perched proudly upon the roof above the second story veranda, his mouth broken into a wide grin that was unmistakable even from the distance Linhardt was below him. One of his arms was wrapped tightly around a gargoyle, and the other clutched a wooden training axe that he definitely wasn’t supposed to have. When he talked he spoke from deep in his throat, trying to sound booming and tough, but the smile never fell from his face. “Linhardt von Hevring!” He paused, pointing his axe in Linhardt’s direction below him as he continued. “Here and now on this day of the Red Wolf Moon, do you surrender!?”_

_There was silence._

_Linhardt had a lot of questions. First: why was Caspar on the roof? Second: how did he get on the roof? Third: how was he going to get down from the roof? Lastly, and most importantly: could he go back in the house now?_

_However, the only question he could think to actually say was a quiet, “What?”_

_Impossibly, Caspar’s smile widened even further. He probably could manage to be more teeth than face if he really kept going. “Do you give up?” His tone shot back up to his normal range, and the smugness in his high voice was borderline painful._

_Linhardt blinked once and nodded, beginning to walk back towards the door. “Yes, I give up. Now let’s go inside.”_

_Caspar hollered in protest, flailing about as he did so. “No! Come on, do it right!” As he spasmed about he repositioned his arm around the stone creature he was latched onto, shifting dangerously close to the edge of the gutter._

_“Fine.” Linhardt knew that if he didn’t agree and get it over with quickly this boy was surely going to knock himself off the roof with all that flailing. He slowly raised his arms up above his head, open palms splayed out wide in a showy sign of defeat. He threw his head back in another dramatic sigh that made Caspar break out into another loud round of giggles as he spoke. “I’m no match for you, mighty warrior. I, Linhardt von Hevring, surrender to you, Caspar von Bergliez.”_

_Caspar cheered in response, bringing up a celebratory fist with his axe. “Haha! I win!”_

_Linhardt blinked, thoroughly bemused. “You won? I thought the point of this was that I was supposed to find you, which I did.” He called back smugly up to him, forcing a particularly unimpressed tone to hide his amusement. This wasn’t the kind of behavior he should be encouraging, but Caspar did look so proud of himself standing up there._

_“Well, you surrendered!” Caspar insisted, stamping his foot. It slipped slightly out from under him, but he grabbed tightly onto the gargoyle with a yelp. The scare did little to diminish his confidence though, and he continued on unphased.“So I win!” He finished, his brilliant smile returning to his face._

_Linhardt shivered and pulled his coat up over his face, both in a vain attempt to shield himself from the cold and hide the unsightly grin he couldn’t will back. While this was still to hide the genuine entertainment he got from the other boy’s antics, Linhardt was also just not a big fan of his smile. His other hand was perched up on his hip as he shot Caspar the most disapproving look he can possibly muster over his jacket collar. “Alright, you win. Now come down. You’re driving me to an early grave just looking at you up there.” Linhardt’s dad says that to him a lot, and while he doesn’t fully understand what it means, the phrase and its tone feels appropriate for the moment._

_“Hang on, just a minute!” Caspar called back down to him giddily. He moved to reposition himself in front of the gargoyle once more. He held his hands behind his back, grabbing either side of the handle of his wooden training axe that was hooked around the statue and keeping him on the roof. He paused his shouting to enjoy the moment before he continued his talking. “You look so little from up here! Is this what it’s like to be tall? Or to be a bird?” His thoughts always had a habit of going a mile a minute, and his mouth somehow moved twice as fast._

_Caspar was always a ball of energy, and talked wildly with his hands when he got excited- which was always. It was a bad combination for standing on an icy roof. “Maybe this is what the wyvern riders see when they’re flying over the city! I could handle this. Maybe I could be a wyvern rider too!“ He shifted so that his body was half draped over the stone monster keeping him up, likely pretending to ride it. “Do you think I’d make a good-?” When he whipped his head around to find Linhardt’s gaze his foot slipped again. He didn’t catch himself this time._

_He lost the tiniest bit of traction under his left heel, and his whole body jerked forward like a heavy weight being dragged down underwater, down the steep sloped tiles._

_He fell._


	6. Sunday, 5th day of Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1172: PART II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** t/w for this chapter: mentions of broken limbs ***

_He fell._

_Because of course he would fall._

_Linhardt watched him descend in horrifying slow motion before his body finally hit the ground with a sickeningly dull thud. The axe he was holding clattered to the ground beside him and everything was still. The few moments of intense silence dragged on excruciatingly as Linhardt starred, frozen both from the cold and shock. Not a moment later Caspar started screaming, so at least he was alive._

_He wasn’t dead, but it was still bad. When Linhardt knelt down beside him, Caspar was writhing in agony on the ground. His eyes were watering as he clutched at his left arm, tucked close to his body. He was screaming more than he was crying, but the glossiness in his eyes was still unmistakable. “Ah! Ah! Linhardt! It hurts!” He choked, his face contorted in a wild, pained expression. He flinched and screamed again. “Ah! Is it broken? Ahhh is it!?”_

_Too loud. Linhardt scrunched his face up, trying to ward off the budding headache. Caspar really needed to calm down before Linhardt’s dad heard the commotion._

_“Stop screaming. Give it here.” Linhardt instructed cooly. In his defense, Caspar really did try to quiet himself. He puffed his cheeks out, holding his breath in a way that would have been comedic in literally any other situation. His choked breathing still hitched and hiccuped, making his rib cage bounce erratically as he continued to groan deep in his throat. Once he had calmed down somewhat, Linhardt helped him to a sitting position before gingerly grabbing Caspar’s hand and slowly moving his arm out to where he could see it better._

_His arm was definitely broken. It bowed out at a funny angle that, after reading all the anatomy books he had found in the library, Linhardt could tell was definitely not how an arm was typically supposed to bend. It made him feel nauseous just looking at it. Caspar just stared at him with round, pleading eyes._

_This was bad. Luckily, it seemed that the broken arm was the worst of Caspar’s injuries. Unfortunately this also meant that Caspar would have to go back home, and wouldn’t be able to stay for his birthday like he was supposed to. Caspar looked to his mangled arm and then back to Linhardt, the same realization occurring to him despite the pain he was in. His eyes watered anew, and Linhardt batted away the wetness with his coat sleeve. He would never admit it, but that thought certainly upset him too. He didn’t even like celebrating his birthday, but if he had to forcibly celebrate the occasion with anyone, he’d rather it be Caspar._

_A half-formed, bad idea crossed his mind._

_Recently, Linhardt had been entertaining a new interest. It had started with an interesting book he had found in his dad’s library late one night when he couldn’t sleep. He had known from a young age that he possessed a crest, every young noble child was tested for one before the age of three, he just didn’t know what it actually did... until recently. Needless to say as soon as he found the first book, that in retrospect he probably wasn’t supposed to have taken in the first place, he found another and then another after that. Reading led to experimenting, and experimenting led to a newfound skill that he wasn’t particularly interested in investing himself in. He was more engaged with how his crest responded to the magic, opposed to what the spells actually did._

_However, If his newfound talent for healing magic could keep Caspar from having to go back home, then maybe it was good for something. Unfortunately, he had only used it to fix a few paper cuts and a particularly painful crick in his neck after sleeping on it wrong one night, so he wasn’t sure whether or not he could actually fix a whole arm. Needless to say, wondering whether or not he could do it or not wasn’t going to do anything._

_Linhardt dropped his voice to a quiet whisper, meeting Caspar’s pleading stare with his own stern gaze. When Caspar opened his mouth to say more words Linhardt pressed his gloved finger to his lip and shushed him before actually speaking himself. “Caspar. I’m going to do something but you have to promise not to tell anyone, okay?”_

_Caspar nodded vigorously, still shaking and now uncharacteristically quiet._

_“Okay. Take a deep breath for me and let it out slowly, like this.” He took in and released several slow deep breaths, pantomiming with his hand what he wanted as he did so. Once Caspar started mimicking him as best as he could, Linhardt stopped guiding him and turned his attention back to Caspar’s arm._

_It was gnarly to look at, and beginning to turn strange colors. Linhardt had to swallow down the urge to vomit. He shut his eyes tight and focused instead on summoning the funny, liquid feeling up from deep in his chest. When he found it, he let the feeling move slowly from his chest through his right arm to the palm of his hand. He took his time with this part, not wanting the spell to fizzle out and exhaust himself in the process. Once he got it to his palm, he balled up his hand into a tight fist for several seconds before opening his eyes and splaying out his fingers wide. With that action, the wet feeling of magic rapidly shot out from his palm and fanned out through the tips of his fingers, forming an intricate glowing ring of pale yellow light that encircled Linhardt’s hand._

_Somehow Caspar’s eyes had gotten even wider. He flinched back violently as Linhardt brought his hand towards his arm, making the poor boy sharply inhale in pain again. His breath grew rapid and uneasy again as he panicked, and Linhardt exhaled loudly. “No, no. Breathe.” He exemplified the deep breathing again while still trying to will the magic in his hand. After some struggling, the boy did follow his instruction again._

_Caspar’s gaze slowly drifted hesitantly down to his arm again, and Linhardt lightly bopped under his chin with his free hand to get him to bring his head back up. “Don’t look at it. Just keep your eyes over my shoulder. Tell me what you see.” Linhardt could feel the heavy pressure of fatigue behind his half-lidded eyes as he made an honest effort to speak soothingly. He had never been good at that, too blunt, but he needed to be calm both for his and Caspar’s sake. The process was exhausting, and Caspar’s dramatic attempts to hide his fear weren’t helping._

_Caspar bobbed his head in agreement to Linhardt’s demand as he continued to breathe loudly through his nose. Once he looked away, Linhardt brought his free hand up to grasp the back of Caspar’s arm to stabilize it. Caspar looked out past Linhardt’s left shoulder, physically drawing his head back to the spot each time he tried to glance back to what LInhardt was doing with him. “... I see some trees and stuff.” He murmured quietly._

_“Mhm.” Linhardt hummed, bringing his right hand over the boy’s arm and knitting his brows in concentration. “How many?” He breathed in deeply as Caspar did, calling the magic to surge forward as he hovered his hand barely above the bruised skin._

_Caspar whimpered again, likely from the strange, slick, warm yet somehow cold feeling of the magic seeping into his body. “Uh. There’s four, no five.” He mumbled._

_Linhardt listened as best he could, but his attention was more so on the weird sensations of using magic on another person. The strangest part was Linhardt feeling the wet, glimmering magic sink through his friend’s muscle tissue and around the bone. “How many leaves are on the trees?” Linhardt asked softly._

_He just needed to keep Caspar distracted long enough to keep him still and finish this. He felt where the bone of his tibia had snapped, and willed the break back together with a slow flex of his fingers. The movement made a gruesome creaking sound, and Caspar squirmed and groaned, likely feeling every bit of it._

_Despite his clear discomfort, Caspar still didn’t look. His opposite hand flexed open and closed on his lap in discomfort. Linhardt heard him make a noise of frustrated thought, probably trying to come up with an answer to his question. “W-what? It’s winter! There aren’t any leaves on the trees-!” He cried in loud confusion, looking back to Linhardt and shrinking back at his annoyed expression._

_“Quieter.” Linhardt hissed, flinching slightly._

_“Sorry... There aren’t any leaves on the trees right now.” Caspar repeated, quieter this time._

_“Ah, well you would know, seeing as you’re looking at them and I am not.” Linhardt agreed in mild amusement. “How does your arm feel now?” He mused, moving his hands away. A slight smirk pulling at the corners of his lips in pride of his handiwork. Even if he wasn’t super interested in the actual magic, it was nice to be good at something._

_Caspar looked down in shock, suddenly noticing the absence of his earlier pain. He twisted and flexed his now completely repaired arm, mouth agape in utter amazement. He turned to Linhardt with another giant grin, and Linhardt noticed he had apparently lost a tooth recently. “Wow! You’re amazing Linhardt-!” He hollered, but panicked when Linhardt stumbled down on his back when he tried to get up. “Hey! Woah! You okay?” Caspar yelled in worry, half catching him with his healed arm as the other boy started sinking to the ground._

_Linhardt pouted and pushed his hands up against his ears. “Caspar. Please, stop shouting.” He mumbled, slumping more into the boy’s grip to support himself. “Doing that just made me really sleepy.” He yawned and let his head loll theatrically onto Caspar’s shoulder to emphasize his exhaustion._

_“Oh...” Caspar nodded in understanding, despite the clear confusion on his face. “But you can’t sleep out here though!” He insisted. “You’ll freeze or something!”_

_“Okay. Carry me inside then.” Linhardt said simply, nodding back in agreement. Sleeping in the snow would definitely be an unpleasant experience._

_Caspar contemplated that for a second before continuing. “Ah. Yeah okay!” With that, he puffed his chest out and nodded vigorously, letting Linhardt climb onto his back in an all too familiar action between them. Caspar, ever quick to return to his silly games, strained his voice again to reach that deeper, dramatic tone from when Linhardt had first found him up on the roof. “Mister von Hevring! In light of your crushing defeat, by me, I am going to... put you under house arrest! Don’t try to resist.” He laughed loudly at himself and looked over his shoulder to see Linhardt’s face, grinning at him in his obnoxious, endearing way._

_Linhardt grumbled and limply draped himself over Caspar’s shoulder, letting his hair cascade forward to obscure his face and hide his smile. “Stop. No. Don’t. The humanity. Get me inside.” He murmured flatly, unsure whether or not Caspar could actually hear him._

_Apparently he did, because Caspar laughed again at that, hooking his now two unbroken arms under Linhardt's knees, and heading for the house. “You know, Linhardt, you’re the worst at games.” He complained jokingly, hiking the limp boy up higher up on his back._

_“Yet you still insist I play them with you.” Linhardt complained back dryly._

_“Yeah, well you’re still my best friend.” Caspar admitted, shrugging his shoulders and pulling the front door to the house open with an excessive heave. He didn’t carry them to Linhardt’s room, much to the boy’s dismay, choosing instead to carry him to the mostly unused foyer just off of the main hallway. Though the room itself never saw much use, the fireplace in the room had still been lit earlier that day, and filled the room with an inviting, warm light._

_Caspar deposited an exhausted Linhardt unceremoniously on the plush skin rug in front of warmth of the fire. Linhardt groaned in protest as Caspar sat down beside him, almost looking tired himself, despite his seemingly limitless energy._

_“What happened to house arrest? You couldn’t carry me to my bed?” Linhardt grumbled, not having the energy to put any actual effort into his half-hearted complaint. He put his feet up in the air as he huffed so Caspar could pull off his boots before exiting the room to put them and his own shoes near the door._

_“I’m not hauling you all the way up the stairs! Plus it’s still your house, so it counts.” Caspar pouted back as he reentered, shrugging off his overcoat and discarding it unceremoniously over the side of a chair. He crossed the room again back to where Linhardt was laying, sinking down to a sitting position beside him before looking into the blazing flames with content. “Besides, I like the fire.”_

_Linhardt hummed a noncommittal response. While he was still displeased, this spot was very comfortable. “Fair. This is fine then.” Caspar smiled at that, and moved to lay down next to him. Linhardt shifted, letting himself relax into the moment. However, even with his eyes closed, he could feel Caspar staring at him. While it was a familiar feeling, and not unwelcome, the feeling of his eyes on him made it hard to fall asleep._

_“You’re so amazing... Hey Linhardt?” Caspar asked, speaking in a way that was too loud to actually be considered a whisper._

_“Hm?” Linhardt hummed tiredly._

_Caspar was quiet for a moment. That was unusual._

_We’re best friends right?” He finally asked._

_“As far as I’m aware, yes.” Linhardt answered simply, because it was a simple question. Of course they were best friends. That was the most obvious fact in the whole world. Even if he could be brash and a little too loud, Caspar was still the one person Linhardt never seemed to get bored of being around._

_“Okay. And I’m your best friend, right?” Caspar asked with the barest hint of uncharacteristic meekness in his voice._

_“Yes. I assumed that was implied after answering your last question.” It was weird. Obviously they were best friends. There wasn’t any reason Caspar should think they weren’t. Curiosity and the faintest hint of insecurity pulled him down a long line of spiraling questions, and while he wanted to ask what brought the topic up, the poor boy was just too drained to embark on some deeply emotional conversation at that moment. Luckily for him, Caspar kept on talking so he didn’t have to._

_“Okay, yeah. You’re my best friend, too... I’m really lucky to have a best friend like you. That glowy magic healy thing you did was so cool!” He was flailing about again as he talked. “You’re amazing. Like just... Wow!” He flexed and stretched his healed arm out above him, clenching it tightly in a fist when he continued. “That fall really hurt, and that thing you did felt so weird, but now it’s like it never even happened! And it doesn’t even ache or anything! How did you even learn that?”_

_While Caspar talked, Linhardt pulled a section of his hair down into his face, running it over the sensitive skin around his mouth, nose, and chin. After a couple moments, he brought up his other hand and tentatively put his thumb in his mouth. Both actions had been inexplicably soothing to Linhardt for as long as he could remember, but unfortunately it seemed that his parents had suddenly deemed both actions as something he was now too old to do._

_Caspar never minded though._

_The comforting feeling from both actions helped to sooth the remnants of his spiraling anxiety and lull him into sleepy relaxation. Caspar reached out to gently tug on his hand, easing his hand away from his mouth before holding it in his own. That action was also familiar, and one Linhardt had asked the other boy to do in order to help him tackle his habit. While he didn’t particularly care whether or not his parents were displeased with his little actions of comfort, years of thumb sucking had pulled his teeth forward in a strange way that made him look somewhat like a rabbit and he didn’t want to make it worse._

_Inexplicably, holding onto Caspar’s hand was somehow nearly just as calming to him as the action it replaced._

_At some point during his ramblings Caspar had shifted from laying on his back to his side, never taking a break from his chatter to do so. He starred at Linhardt with a wide-eyed fondness, still holding his hand as if it was the simplest action in the world. He never did stop talking. Linhardt watched him through half lidded eyes as he prattled on excitedly, hoping he’d tire himself out of talking soon enough._

_Suddenly, Caspar audibly gasped, shooting dramatically back upright as he did so. “Oh hey, I just remembered something else. I want to give you something before you fall asleep, okay? I know I’m supposed to wait until your actual birthday, but I think now is good.”_

_Linhardt groaned in exasperation, and continued groaning louder and longer when Caspar shook his whole body by the shoulder trying to get him to interact with him beyond that. After far too much shaking and yelling he yielded. “Okay, but you’re going to actually let me sleep once you do.” Linhardt gave in with a huff, opening his eyes again just barely._

_“Okay! I promise.” He beamed and rummaged through his pockets thoughtfully before nodding and continuing on. “Now close your eyes and hold out your hand.”_

_“Why?” Linhardt inquired as he dragged himself back up into somewhat of a sitting position. The single word was uttered more as a demand opposed to an actual question, meant mostly to bother the other boy opposed to actual resistance. Unsurprisingly, Caspar huffed in response._

_Caspar puffed out his cheeks in annoyance and his eyebrows knit together to accentuate his perplexed frustration. “Just do it!” He insisted loudly, the sound making Linhardt flinch minutely. It was involuntary, a typical response to sudden loud noises, but at the sight of Caspar quickly covering his mouth alongside the guilt that shone apologetically in his wide eyes, Linhardt just sighed and complied to the other boy’s demand, stopping himself from teasing the other boy any further. His eyes fluttered closed as he exhaled, opening his hand out to allow Caspar to do whatever he was trying to do. Honestly, he was insufferable sometimes._

_After a beat there was some impatient rustling as Caspar, assumingly, pulled out the gift in question before pressing it firmly into the palm of Linhardt’s hand. “Okay, you can look now.” He heard him say, a wide grin apparent in his tone. Had his eyes been open in that moment, Linhardt would have made a point to roll them so far back in his head that they could have gotten stuck that way._

_Instead of forcing himself to blindness with his excessive dramatics, Linhardt blinked and opened his eyes slowly, looking first to Caspar staring at him expectantly before glancing down at the strip of fabric in his hand. He turned it once in his hand before reacting to it. “A ribbon?”_

_“Yeah! It’s for your hair!” Caspar exclaimed. He pointed to his own head as he spoke to emphasize his statement. His chest swelled with pride and his bright beam was emphasized by the intensity of his strikingly blue eyes, widely awaiting Linhardt’s approval._

_Linhardt blinked again. “Oh.” He murmured gently, laying back down and looking over the thing Caspar had been so excited to give him. He stayed silent as he inspected the ribbon further. It was a plain white ribbon, narrow, and soft to the touch. One end was slightly frayed from where Caspar had clearly cut it off of whatever garment it had originally been attached to with a knife. He made a soft, inquisitive hum before bringing his eyes back up to Caspar. “Why would I want this?”_

_Caspar faltered for a second, but he soon recovered and blathered on again. “You told me that your dad has been threatening to make you cut your hair if he kept catching you messing with it like that, but I know it's not really something you think about when you do it, so I thought maybe having something to help you keep your hair out of your face could help? Y’know, so you’re not doing it without thinking in front of him?” He initially paused his defensive rambling in order to take a deep, audible gulp of oxygen, but the silence lingered for a minute before he mumbled in a hushed tone, like a confession, “I’d hate it if your dad made you cut it.”_

_Linhardt pulled a bit of his hair forward into his face again in order to inspect it, toying with the soft strand as he hummed in thought. “You like my hair? Hm... Maybe I should just cut it off then.” He finished with a small mirthful smile that widened as the tips of Caspar’s ears flushed a hint of pink. He never really understood why that happened, but it was endearing nonetheless._

_“No! I mean yeah! I mean no, don’t cut it! I just mean- It’s so cool.” The pink spread to his cheeks as he babbled for an explanation, carding his fingers through his own short-cropped hair. “Dad makes me cut mine short, I wish I could grow mine out like yours.”_

_“Okay then.” Linhardt agreed with a small nod. “Will you tie it in?”_

_“Wha-!?” Caspar shouted and threw himself back in shock hard enough that he actually fell over, flailing hastily to sit up again right after. “You want me to do it?” His face had turned from soft pink to a burning scarlet. Honestly it was all a strange reaction to a very reasonable request._

_Linhardt pressed his hand over his face, sighing_ _languidly_ _. “Shhh. Stop yelling. I still have a hard time even tying my own boots, let alone something behind my head.”_

_“Yeah, but why do I gotta do it then?” Caspar whined._

_Linhardt tilted his head up, and brought his hands together to rest his chin atop of them. “Caspar please.” He pouted, mimicking his friend’s expression before continuing with a flat, yet coy plea.“Caspar, it's my birthday.”_

_Impossibly, the red of Caspar’s ears darkened even more so. “It’s not even your birthday yet!” Caspar wailed back, making Linhardt smirk._

_Clearly he was going to win whatever this was without even having to try._

_“Aren’t you always the one telling me the whole week counts?” Linhardt countered with a disarming smile, Caspar huffed, realizing he was cornered. Linhardt couldn’t help but laugh quietly at how ridiculous the whole thing was, which made the other boy’s blush deepen even more._

_Despite the dreadful exhaustion of being kept awake after severely overexerting himself, making Caspar embarrassed like that was always rather charming and worth staying awake for, just barely. Caspar easily complied to his request after willing his intense crimson flush to fade away. “Okay. Okay fine.” He confirmed, defeated. “Just turn around already.” Linhardt nodded and hummed gratefully, complying and brushing the entirety of his hair back behind him._

_After another brief moment, Linhardt felt Caspar’s hands at the back of his head. His hair had grown out past his shoulders, and while he was certainly proud of it, the level of care Caspar was taking with him felt wholly unnecessary. Caspar slowly, meticulously gathered up all of the evergreen strands, moving as if he was cradling a small animal opposed to simple hair. It seemed silly to treat it like some delicate thing, it was just hair._

_“Woah. It’s so long now...” Caspar mused behind him in awe._

_Linhardt hummed in pleased agreement as Caspar combed his fingers down his scalp, gently easing out any tangles while smoothing the ends with his thumb. As he did so he inhaled deeply, breathing out slowly in the same way he had when Linhardt had healed him._

_“... Soft.” He stated distantly. Odd. Linhardt was constantly touching his hair, of course he knew it was soft. Caspar didn’t need to be telling him that. Linhardt debated on teasing him about it, but ultimately decided against it._

_Caspar repeated the action again silently, and then again after that more times than what was probably necessary to complete the task, but the feeling was still pleasant. It was certainly better than the angry hairbrush his mother always used, so he didn’t complain. If anything, it was rather soothing, and made Linhardt blatantly aware of how utterly exhausted he was. Honestly he could easily fall asleep upright if Caspar continued._

_Unfortunately, all too soon Linhardt felt Caspar fumble with the little loops he had made before pulling them carefully into a messy little bow. “There. Okay it's in... Do you like it?” Caspar asked as he dropped his hands away._

_Linhardt turned around, first looking to his friend. His eyebrows were knit together again, this time in an expression of hopeful expectance. Linhardt pulled the long, low ponytail over his shoulder, making a short show out of scrutinizing it. When he was done he looked back up, turning up the corners of his mouth. “I’ll never take it off.” He said dryly, making Caspar laugh so hard he snorted trying to stop himself._

_“Ha ha, quit teasing me already! Go to sleep.” Caspar chided, pushing Linhardt’s arm playfully. Linhardt noticed absentmindedly that the slight dusting op pink had returned to the other boy’s ears._

_“Okay.” While he wasn’t sure why Caspar was laughing, Linhardt certainly wasn’t going to argue over being told to sleep. He was genuinely serious about not taking the silly ribbon off. It was practical. Keeping his hair out of his face would definitely keep him from playing with it, and in turn keep his dad from yelling at him so much about it. Plus, it was a gift, and while he wasn’t sure exactly why Caspar wanted him to have it so bad, the enamored look he had given him after accepting the thing made Linhardt want to wear it forever. Turning his thoughts back to the present moment, he laid back down again, shutting his eyes and relaxing into the soft give of the wooly rug under him. He heard Caspar shifting as he laid back down beside him, and, without opening his eyes, Linhardt found his hand once more._

_It was quiet, for just a moment. “Hey Linhardt?” Caspar spoke softly without being asked to do so- a nearly impossible feat._

_Linhardt hummed in annoyance, not bothering to open his eyes again. “Caspar. Quiet. I’m already asleep.”_

_Caspar laughed giddily before returning to his serious, gentle tone. “Stop it, I’m not falling for that again! Just... Thanks again for fixing my arm.” There was another pause, and his words were so soft now Linhardt nearly missed what he said as he was drifting off to sleep. “You really are amazing.” Apparently, being healed was just as exhausting for the person who was healed as it was for the healer, because Caspar, with all of his seemingly boundless energy, yawned._

_Linhardt willed his eyes just barely open once more, meeting Caspar’s wide-eyed gaze that seemed to be permanently fixed on him. The rare hint of a full genuine smile pulled at his lips, and his eyes fluttered closed once more. Rare smiles were much more common in Caspar’s presence for some reason. Instead of analyzing that thought any further, Linhardt answered simply. “You’re welcome. Just don’t make me have to do it again.” His voice was slurred from his drowsy stupor, and he spoke through another yawn on the last few words. The point seemed to come across still, as he felt the other boy gently squeeze his hand in response, opposed to verbally replying. The action was a subtle cue that Caspar was making an effort to finally let poor Linhardt get some much needed sleep._

_With that, he sighed gratefully, pulling Caspar’s repaired arm closer to himself by the hand as he curled up into a more comfortable position. If Caspar had continued talking at all afterward, he didn’t hear a word of it- he had already drifted off into a comfortable sleep._


End file.
